With You
by stephaniew
Summary: Something's after Dean Winchester. Something evil. That part's nothing new, but this time he's got someone in his life.  He sends her off with Sam.  Will that keep her safe?  Or tear them apart?


A/N: I can't help it. I like to see Dean Winchester suffer. And I have a soft spot for reunions. I hope you enjoy!

Always much love and gratitude to my friend and beta, **MaliBearsBuddy**. She's an amazing source of support and inspiration. Do go check our her wonderful stories!

Reviews are much appreciated!

Disclaimer: Silly, I don't own anything related to Supernatural! I just make them suffer for your enjoyment!

With You

"I don't know, Dean," she whispers uncertainly. "It doesn't feel right. I don't think..."

He interrupts her with a finger over her lips. "I know, babe, I know. I don't like it any more than you do. But it's the only way." He strokes her cheek, brushes a kiss across her lips. "It's the only way to keep you safe and get us out of this mess."

He looks across to Sam. "You take care of her, okay, Sammy?" he says roughly. "Don't let her out of your sight. And don't let her talk you into anything crazy."

Sam nods, face serious. "You have my word."

Dean turns back to Sophia. "You should go," he says softly, pulling her in for a last hug. God, it hurts to let her go. He cups her face in his hands, tilting it up to his. "Please be careful, babe. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you." He kisses her forehead and then gently pushes her away.

"You be careful, too, Dean. I don't want to so much as a scratch on you when you come back." Her voice is fierce. She's struggling mightily to keep the tears in check. She knows it kills him to see her cry and this is hard enough as it is.

He flashes her his cockiest grin, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Everything will be fine, babe, I promise."

They stand there for a long moment, eyes speaking more eloquently than any words.

Sam wraps an arm around Sophia, pulling her toward the door. "We should get on the road," he murmurs. He stops at the door, looking back at his brother. "Be safe, Dean," he says.

Dean gives a curt nod and turns away. He can't watch her walk out the door. Can't watch her walk out of his life for the foreseeable future.

~~~SPN~~~

Sam and Sophia have been on the move for the last three weeks. No hunts, nothing that might draw attention to them. They haven't spoken to Dean since they left him in Austin. It seemed safer for all of them to break contact completely. Sophia can't decide if it's harder to not know or to hear his voice and not be able to be with him.

Sam does his best to keep her mind occupied. They play tourist all over the country. The monuments in DC, the Empire State building in New York, Mount Rushmore, the redwoods.

They pretend to be a married couple. It's an obvious choice, a safe choice. He's knows it hurts her. He can see it in her eyes. He knows he's not the Winchester she needs.

Despite Sam's best efforts, the waiting and worrying is taking it's toll. She's lost weight. Her eyes are hollow and dark. He watches her with concern, but can't think of anything to ease her suffering. He promised Dean he'd take care of her, but he feels like he's failing. She's not going to be returned to Dean in the condition he left her in.

At the end of the fourth week, he sees a change in her. It's subtle, but after all the time they've spent together, he knows her like the back of his hand. She's planning something.

He tries to dig it out. To trick her into telling him. He wheedles and cajoles. Teases and threatens. But she insists there's nothing going on.

He knows better. He knows she's desperate. And desperate people do desperate things.

~~~SPN~~~

It's been three weeks since she left with his brother. It feels like a fucking eternity. He had hoped he wouldn't have as much time to think about her given how much he was on the move. No such luck. She's like a ghost, always there. Always aunting him. And there's not enough salt in the world to keep her spirit away.

He loses track of how many towns he passes through as he hunts, hoping he finds it before it finds him. He sleeps when he can, drinks when he can't. His dreams are consumed by her face. Sometimes he dreams she's there with him, she's found him. Come to him.

He wakes in a cold sweat, lonely and alone.

He knew this would be hard. But he had no idea how painful. She's the glue that holds it all together for him. She grounds him. Loves him. Keeps the misery of this job at bay. He relies on having her to come home to every day - even when home is a crappy motel in the middle of nowhere.

He remembers using booze and women to get through the days before her. But booze doesn't work anymore and other women are out of the question. So he's left with sleepless nights in an empty bed.

Sometimes he wonders if maybe she was right. Maybe they should do this together. He pushes the thought away as soon as it enters his head. He can't risk her. This thing is after him. He can't risk Sophia - or Sam for that matter - being caught up in something because of him.

The little voice the back of his mind reminds him they're stronger together. The three of them. They work so well as a team, he's almost forgotten what it was like when it was just him and Sam.

No. Just no. Strong or not, team or not, he's not going to risk it.

Being separated from her temporarily is a hell of a lot better than being separated from her forever.

~~~SPN~~~

Sam's onto her. An unfortunate side effect of spending every waking moment with him for nearly a month now. He's been amazingly patient with her. Trying so hard to keep her mind off what's happening, away from the not knowing, the endless worry. But she's had enough.

Desperation makes her weak, reckless. She knows what she's thinking of doing is dangerous. Knows Dean will probably kick her ass. But she doesn't care anymore. It's not worth being safe if she has to be without him. She's given it almost a month. It feels like years. Years too long.

Sam's suspicions push him to cling to her like a shadow. But she manages to slip away, find a quiet corner in a coffee shop/internet café with anonymous computer access and a disposable cell. She calls the wireless company. Gives all the right passwords. He doesn't know she knows them. They turn on the GPS in his cell phone. He's in Denver. She hopes he plans to stay a little longer.

Sam's worried face appears. She shuts everything down. Tosses the phone in the trash with her coffee cup. Gives him what she hopes is a reassuring smile. Deflects his questions deftly.

That night, she slips Sam some sleeping pills. He's out like a light. She leaves him a brief note. Asks him not to look for her. Thanks him for everything. Tells him she'll contact him when she can.

She steals a car, an older model, almost invisible really. It's going to take her more than a day to get to Denver. She briefly doubts herself. Wonders if he's missing her as she's missing him. Wonders if he'll try to make her go away again. She pushes those thoughts away, concentrating instead on consuming the miles between here and Denver as quickly as possible.

~~~SPN~~~

A soft knock on the motel room door startles Dean from his research. He swings the door open and his heart starts to pound as he takes in Sophia's form.

"Dean," she whispers as she reaches for him, her face etched with horror and pain.

Instinctively, he moves to take her in his arms, but recoils when he finds her covered in blood. Before he can react, she's collapsing at his feet with a soft sigh.

Falling to his knees, he turns her over, pulling her onto his lap.

"Sophia? Sophia!" he cries as his hands come up covered in her blood.

She looks up at him, the light in her eyes fading. "You were supposed to keep me safe. You said you'd always keep me safe, but that thing...that thing you were supposed to kill... It was after you, but now I'm..." Her voice trails off as tears pool in her dark eyes before dripping down her pale cheeks. "You lied to me."

"No...no...everything I do is to keep you safe," he whispers as he desperately tries to find the source of the bleeding and stop it. He has to save her. Just like she's saved him.

Her eyes start to drift closed. "You lied to me, Dean. How could you do that? I loved you..."

He stares in disbelief as her head lolls to the side and her eyes close for the last time. "Nooooooooo," he moans, clutching her to him as hot tears stream down his face. "God, please, no."

His eyes fly open as he gasps for breath. Sitting up, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Another nightmare.

He scrubs his hands over his face, wiping away the remnants of the tears he cried even in sleep. He feels an overwhelming urge to call her, hear her voice. Make sure she's ok. He knows Sam would call if anything was wrong, but...

~~~SPN~~~

The stars apparently align and she makes excellent time. It's late in the evening when she hits the outskirts of Denver. She stops at another internet café and pulls up the wireless company's website. She hopes he hasn't thought to check. If he has, he'd have shut it down and likely ditched the phone.

The breath she didn't realize she was holding rushes out when the signal pops up. A cheap motel on the other side of town. Maybe another twenty minutes.

She pulls into the motel parking lot in front of the managers office. It only takes a twenty and a smile to get the information she needs. She knows all the fake names he uses.

Her confidence waivers as she approaches the door. Her stomach knots. She's exhausted. Drained physically from the drive. Emotionally from the time apart. But she's here now. And he's on the other side of that door. She rubs her hands down over her jeans. May as well face whatever her fate is.

She raises a hand and knocks tentatively.

A moment later the door crashes open. They stare at each other wide-eyed.

She can't think of a single thing to say. He looks like hell. Unshaven. T-shirt and ripped jeans. His face is drawn, hollow. His eyes have dark smudges under them. Unbidden, her hand reaches out to him.

The movement seems to break the spell. He grabs her hand, yanking her into his arms. She falls against him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. He's warm and solid and real.

He steps back into the room, pulling her with him, slamming the door shut. His arms envelope her. His face finds her neck. He sucks in a deep breath.

She's trembling. She clutches at his back. The tears she's been pushing back for so long slip down her cheeks, wetting his shirt.

After what seems conversely like hours, yet not even close to long enough, he holds her away. "You shouldn't be here," he says in a strangled voice. He shakes her, hands tight on her upper arms. "You shouldn't be here," he repeats. "It's not safe. I can't keep you safe."

Her face falls. She was wrong to come. He doesn't want her. She drops her head, twists from his grip. "I had to," she whispers helplessly. She feels weak. Stupid. Tired. Her hands knot in the hem of her shirt.

She takes a stumbling step back toward the door. "You don't want me here. I'll go. I'm sorry."

"No, baby, I don't want you to go," he sighs. He draws her back in his arms, crushing her against him. "Not again. Not ever again."

He cradles her in his arms, stroking her hair. When he feels her sag, he pulls back. "When was the last time you slept?"

She shrugs, eyes on the floor. "I dunno," she says, "Monday maybe?"

He rolls his eyes. "Babe, it's Wednesday." He shakes his head, moving her toward the bed. "You need to get some rest."

Her wide eyes find his face. "No, no, I'm fine." She tries to shake him off. "I don't want..." She stops.

"I'll lay down with you," he says softly, brushing her cheek. "I promise I won't go anywhere."

Her eyes search his and then she nods. "Ok," she says. She reaches to undo her jeans, but her fingers fumble on the fastener.

"Let me." He undresses her quickly, replacing her long sleeved t-shirt and jeans with one of his flannel shirts. He settles her in the bed, then strips down to his underwear before laying next to her. He pulls her into his arms and she snuggles as close as she can.

Her head rests right over his heart. The soft thud is soothing. She feels his hand rub her arm softly. She's finally where she needs to be. She just hopes it's not temporary.

~~~SPN~~~

It's semi-dark when she wakes. She's disoriented, fuzzy. Her eyes adjust to the dim light and she sees Dean. He's laying on the bed next to her, fully dressed, laptop open.

She rolls onto her back, rubbing at her eyes. Her mind tries to catch up with her reality.

"Well, hello, Sleeping Beauty," Dean says. "I was starting to think I was gonna have to check for a pulse."

She blinks up at him. "How long have a I been asleep?" Her voice is husky. She swallows hard. "What time is it?"

"More than twelve hours. It's about four in the morning."

She groans softly, slowly getting her bearings. Her stomach growls loudly.

He chuckles softly. "If you're hungry, I got you a sandwich from across the street." He puts the laptop to the side and gets up.

She slides from the bed and walks unsteadily to the bathroom. When she returns, he's got a turkey sandwich and a bottle of water set up on the nightstand. She climbs back in the bed, setting the sandwich on her lap. She eats quietly, glancing at him occasionally. She has no idea what he's doing, but a frown creases his brow and he seems to be involved in whatever he's reading.

As she chews, she sifts through the events of the last day. He'd told her he never wanted her to leave again, but he kept pushing her away. Now he seemed more interested in the laptop than her. This was a bad idea. She should never have come, never have left Sam. He was probably crazy with worry. And for what? So she could sit and watch Dean surf the internet?

Perhaps a month apart had made him realize he didn't really need her after all. Didn't really want her around. Did love really fade that quickly?

If she was going to be honest, she had sort of hoped for some kind of chick flick style reunion. That he'd take her in his arms, tell her how much he loved her, how much he missed her, couldn't live without her, all of it. Then he'd take her to bed and make love to her. And they'd live happily ever after.

She almost snorts at that. Yeah, since when have they ever lived a fairytale.

She flicks another glance in his direction. He's still clicking away, reading quietly. Not paying any attention to her at all.

She finishes the sandwich and the bottled water and gets up. She finds her jeans on the floor where he tossed them and slips them on. Boots are next. She's lacing the second one when he speaks.

"What are you doing?" His voice is quiet, guarded.

She ties the laces and stands. She doesn't look at him. She's afraid of what she'll see in his eyes.

"I'm leaving," she says softly, gathering up her t-shirt and bra. "I'm sure Sam is worried sick."

"Leaving?" He tosses down the laptop and makes his way to her. He doesn't touch her. "You want to go back to Sam?"

She shrugs carelessly. Tries to figure how she can get past him and out the door without coming too close.

"You were right. I shouldn't be here. You don't need me and I'll just be in the way. It's dangerous." She tries to slip past him, eyes on the ground.

He snags her hand, holding it tightly when she tries to yank it away. "What if I don't want you to go?" His voice is soft, husky. "What if I'm so damn selfish I don't care about the danger, I just want you here with me?"

She freezes. The rawness in his voice grabs at her heart. Maybe...

She keeps her eyes on the ugly patterned carpet. Tries to keep her voice even. "Are you sure about that?" she replies. "You don't seem particularly happy to see me."

He sighs. Rests her hand over his heart as he moves closer. "I'm trying to be pissed off that you snuck away from Sam, that you put your life in danger." He lifts her hand, kissing her fingers. "But I can't."

She trembles. The feel of his lips on her skin, however briefly, fans a fire inside her. God, it's been so long.

"I don't understand," she sighs. "You tell me I shouldn't be here, then you tell me you don't want me to leave. You hold me while I sleep, but when I wake up, you're more interested in the damn laptop." She finally raises her gaze to his face. She can't stop the tears filling her eyes. "Did you..." Her voice falters. "Did being apart make you realize you don't want me anymore?"

At that he pulls her into his arms, holding her tightly. He buries his face in her hair. "God, no," he whispers, voice tight. "Not a chance." He sighs heavily, rubbing his hands up and down her back. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry."

She pulls away to see his face. "Damn it, Dean, just spell it out for me, please?" she murmurs helplessly.

He cups her face in his hands. "I love you," he says. "I love you, I want you, and God help me, I need you with me." He pauses, eyes searching hers. "But I hate myself for putting you in danger because I'm too weak to let you go."

She stares at him. "Is that what this is about? Really?"

His eyes drop to the floor and he shifts away from her. "I'm afraid I can't keep you safe," he murmurs haltingly. The confession hurts. "I've failed so many times before. I can't watch you die."

She moves to him, reaching to turn his face back to hers. "Do you know where I'm the safest? The most protected?"

He shakes his head.

"Here. With you."

He shakes his head again, more violently this time. "No, no way. I'm more liable to get you killed than keep you safe."

She steps even closer, pressing against him. His arms automatically circle her waist.

"We're better together," she murmurs, eyes intent on his. "We're stronger. When I'm with you, I feel like I can do anything. Because I know you're there. I know you have my back." She pauses, her eyes wavering finally, drifting down over his face. "I know because you love me."

"You can't be sure..." His voice is soft, an undercurrent of hope running through it.

"I'm absolutely sure," she says flatly. Her eyes meet his again, determination flashing in their depths.

He watches her for a few moments in silence. Then his mouth tilts up in a resigned grin. "I suppose it's pointless to argue with you, isn't it?"

An answering smile lights her face. "You _have_ been paying attention, haven't you?"

"Don't tell anyone," he says in a stage whisper. They both laugh for what seems like the first time in ages.

The laughter fades quickly as she shifts against him. Desire replaces amusement as his hands move down over her bottom. She leans into him and he stumbles back against the wall. Both sigh softly as she molds herself to him.

"I missed touching you," she whispers. Her fingers slide under the edge of his henley. His skin feels warm and smooth. Better than she remembers. She exhales, melting against him.

He kisses the top of her head, her temple, her forehead. He tilts her face up to his. "Do you realize," he breathes, brushing his lips over her cheeks, "that I haven't kissed you yet? That I haven't kissed you in a month?"

Her lips part and her tongue flicks out to wet them as her eyes drift partway closed. "I noticed," she replies. "Are you gonna fix that for me?"

"I could probably help you with that..." His words are lost as his mouth closes over hers. The kiss is soft and tender, full of promise. Their tongues slide against each other, exploring, re-acquainting.

He steps back toward the bed, pulling her with him. He breaks the kiss only long enough to lay her gently on the bed before settling himself over her. Their mouths meet again as their hands roam over smooth skin.

She pulls at the back of his shirt and he obligingly reaches back to drag it off and toss it aside. She runs her hands over his back and shoulders, down over his arms. She needs to feel all of him.

His mouth slips down over her jaw to her throat. He moves to the side and starts undoing the shirt buttons, revealing more of her skin. He pushes the worn fabric to the side, his warm gaze raking over her. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs. Fingers trace over her collarbone, down over her sternum, her ribs. He frowns. "You've lost weight."

She takes his hand, stroking it over her belly. "I don't eat when I'm stressed." Her eyes meet his. They're full of guilt and sadness. She cups his cheek, coaxing him back down to her. "It's ok, babe," she murmurs. "Please don't look like that." Her lips drift over his, offering absolution, forgiveness, love, promise. Everything.

He takes her mouth again, hotter and hungrier this time. Seeking. Giving. Taking. His hands caress her bare skin, learning her again. Teasing. Tempting.

"I missed you so much," he whispers as he kisses over her jaw and throat. His voice is rough and raw. Soft and dark. She shivers beneath him.

"Missed the feel of your skin." Hands drift over her breasts, cupping them, thumbs flicking over the tight nipples. She arches into his hands with a soft moan.

"Missed how you taste." A hot mouth follows the path of his hands. When his mouth closes around her nipple, tongue imitating the flicking of his thumb, she whimpers. Her fingers twist in his hair.

"Dean," she pants. Closing her eyes, unable to watch his mouth on her skin and still form a coherent thought. "I...oh...I missed this, too." She swallows hard. "I missed how you make me feel."

He raises his head to look at her, his gaze hot and tender at the same time. "Tell me..."

She opens her eyes to meet his. It steals her breath when he looks at her like that. Her eyes are serious when she answers. "Hot. Wanton. Sexy." She strokes his cheek. "Loved. Adored. Treasured."

He stares at her, eyes impossibly dark. His hands stop their caresses, and she squirms beneath him.

"What is it?" Her eyes search his. "Did I say something wrong?" Her face falls.

He shakes his head. He slides back up, mouth crashing over hers. They're both breathless when he pulls away. "No, babe, not wrong," he whispers, kissing her over her face.

Now that he's close, she can see the sheen of tears in his eyes. "Oh, no, don't... I didn't mean..."

He shushes her with a finger to her lips. "Shhhh," he murmurs, replacing his finger with his lips. His hands find their way over her waist to her hips, shifting her tight against him.

Her questions are pushed to the back of her mind. She grinds against him, moaning softly. "It's been so long..." she whispers. "So damn long..."

His fingers go to work on the fastening of her jeans, dragging them down and off. He strips off his own clothes and settles back in the cradle of her hips. He wraps her leg around him, as his hand slides down her thigh to cup her bottom. He rocks against her slowly and rasps, "I need to be inside you. Now."

"Yes," she whispers as their mouths fuse in another bone melting kiss. She raises her hips to meet his thrust, sighing in satisfaction as he slides into her waiting heat.

The pace he sets is slow and even, rocking them gently toward their peak. His tongue echoes the movement of his body, sliding against hers languorously.

She moves with him, fingers sliding over his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax. She murmurs his name, pressing kisses onto his shoulder. She feels the heat spreading through her body like lava. It's slow and unstoppable. All-consuming. The outside world fades away. All she knows is him as he surrounds her, fills her, annihilates her. It's all she's ever wanted. It's all she really needs.

He quickens the pace, not wanting this to ever end, but unable to resist the call of her body. He watches her face as she loses herself in the flames. He must have been crazy to think he could go on without her. There's no going back to the man he was before, even if he wanted to try. He belongs to her now.

As if she can hear his thoughts, her eyes snap open. They're dark with desire. And love. Her hand finds his and she entwines their fingers. "I love you," she murmurs, arching against him as her body starts to tighten around him. "Love you..."

He closes his eyes and surges into her with a gasp. He buries his face in her neck as she clenches around him, the pleasure almost unbearable.

Labored breathing is the only sound for several moments. They hold each other, quiet, drained.

He rolls to his side, keeping her close. He tangles his legs with hers, maintaining as much contact as possible. Pulling the sheets up over them, he relaxes next to her, stroking her face.

His scrutiny feels like too much. She's too exposed. A raw nerve. She looks down, eyelashes fluttering to cover her gaze. To hide some part of her from his examination.

While her impassioned words before were true and she does believe they're better together, she doesn't want to be a responsibility. Doesn't want her love to be a burden on a man who already carries so many.

"Look at me," he says softly, fingers under her chin.

She shakes her head.

"Please, Sophia."

"Later," she whispers desperately, shaking her head again.

He exhales shakily. "You're not leaving." His tone is fierce, but somehow pleading.

"No, of course not," she says with a shudder, pressing closer.

His hands roam up and down her back, soothing. "Please tell me what you're thinking," he says, "because my mind is going places I don't want it to go."

She sighs. Deciding to counter his requests with one of her own, she asks, "What were you thinking about what I said before? About how you make me feel."

Silence. She closes her eyes tighter. Damn. But then she hears his voice.

"I wondered," he says slowly, voice tight with emotion, "how _I_ could possibly make you feel that way. How you would still feel that way after everything we've been through. After everything I've put you through." He swallows hard. "Because if I knew, maybe I could keep doing whatever it is and not screw up the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She sucks in a surprised gasp and her eyes fly open to find his. She opens her mouth, then closes it just as quickly.

He chuckles nervously. "Wow, that's gotta be a first...speechless?"

Her hand finds his cheek as she stares at him. "Dean, I've felt that way for a long time," she says finally. "Sometimes when you look at me..." She shakes her head with a small smile. "I feel like I'm the most precious thing in the world. And I wonder how I got so lucky."

It's Dean's turn to drop his eyes, flushing slightly. "I'm not..."

"Uh uh, babe, don't do that," she interrupts. "You're the best that's ever happened to _me_." Her voice drops to a whisper. "And I'm just as afraid as you are that I'm going to screw this up."

His mouth is on hers as she finishes her sentence. His hand tangles in her hair, holding her in place as he kisses her thoroughly.

"I'm sorry I made you doubt how I feel about you," he murmurs, pressing kisses along her jaw as he rolls to his back, pulling her over him.

She purrs, tilting her head to give him access to her throat. "Me, too," she replies. "I'm sorry I doubted."

His tongue finds the spot on her neck that always makes her shiver. He chuckles against her skin. "Glad to see some things haven't changed."

"Mmmm," she sighs, squirming against him. "How you make me feel will never change..."


End file.
